Reqiuem for a Dragon
by Xavior Nightshadow
Summary: A Spike Resurrection fic. Find the rest out for yourself.
1. Session 1: Let Me Go

Requiem for a Dragon

Disclaimer: Bebop. Not mine. It's not fair! NOT FAIR! GAAHHHH!

A/N: Spike is dead. No changing that. But hey, we do what we can. Honestly, this is just a shot at a "what if he didn't die" thing. And as long as I'm talking, let me just say Agent Orange is the CB fanfiction god.

Chapter 1: Let Me Go

"Fucking lunkhead… went and got himself killed! God DAMN! I told him… I told him to leave the past alone, and what does he do? Idiot!" Faye tossed a bag against the wall, one of several already piled up. "Well, then, I'm not going to be here to mourn for his stupid ass. I'm out of here."

"Probably not a good idea, Faye."  
"You know, I'm sick of people spying on my conversation."  
"Spying? You're not exactly quiet, Faye." Jet sighed. "Look, you can't just run off. You have a bounty on your head."

She smirked. "Who's going to hunt me? You?"

"I just might, Romani girl. If you're leaving, I guess I can't stop you… but you're not taking my money."  
"I have my own."  
"Well, there's a surprise… Take care, alright?"

She smiled, a bit sadly. "You bet." She grabbed a few of the bags and walked out to the Redtail. She tossed them in and hopped in herself. "So long, space cowboy." The doors opened, and the Redtail suddenly shot off, headed unmistakably for Mars.

"Gonna be quiet around here… bout damn time…" Jet sighed and started up a game of Go. "Spike was always hopeless at this game anyway. No strategy."

"Guess… you never were really alive then, Spike? That what you tried to say? Bullshit…" Faye sighed. "Guess this is it, then? The final chapter for the Bebop? We're all on our own now, you idiot… except for Ed and Ein, we're all alone. Happy with yourself? Didn't think so. Maybe if you were still around… maybe we could go back to the old days, huh? You and Jet used to be partners all on your own… miss you, you stupid poofy-haired little asshole." She turned on her radio and sang along with the song that came off. _You're singing off key…_ "Shut up. Nobody asked you."

A man walked through the desert. His left eye was red. His right was brown. And there was a small group of people, along with a dog. Corgi, his memory told him. A teenaged girl looked up, then suddenly jumped to her feet, running up to him. Her hair was fiery red and bounced wildly as she dashed at him, arms spread out in the kind of airplane-imitation you'd expect from an eight-year-old. "Spike-person! Heeheehee, long time no see!" The girl blinked. "Well, Ed is a poet, and she did not even know it! How fun! So what brings the dead guy to our little corner of the universe, huh, Spike-person?"  
He blinked. "Dead? I'm confused."

"Yep, yep, Spike-Spike dieeeeedddd… Ding-dong, you're dead, bye bye, you will be missed!"

"So I'm dead? God's got a strange sense of humor… and who the hell are you, kid?" The man pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, the destroyed cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He lit it, then pocketed the lighter. The girl blinked.

"Ed is Ed, silly Spike-person. You know Ed! And Ein, too, you know the doggie too!"

"Well. That'll teach me to open my mouth. But honestly kid… I have no clue who you are… and I hate dogs." He walked past the girl. "In any case… I'm dead. No reason left to be here." He disappeared into the distance, a wanderer in the middle of nowhere.

"Spike-Spike… Our numero uno buddy person is acting awfully strange, Ed thinks, doggie-person! We must investigate! To the Edmobile!" She rushed over to the small camp, quickly setting up her small moped.  
"Leaving again, Françoise?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh. Edward ran into an old friend from the past! And he's dead! Or at least, that's what the news said. I dunno though." Edward pouted. "Spike-Spike didn't look very dead to me. So Ed… Is gonna investigate! Cowgirl Edward is on her way, dead friend!" The moped suddenly shot off, the small Corgi chasing desperately after the dust cloud.

Welcome back, space cowboy… 

A/N: Yes, it begins. Wait till the fun part! Let's just say I intend to at least KINDA bring Bebop full circle here, which means a possible reuniting of the crew, and of course at least a slight cameo of Electra Ovilio! Muahahahah.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. If I did… I would rule over all the known universe. Alas.


	2. Session 2: Unwell

A/N: Yes. I'm back. Back again. Xavior's back. Tell a friend. I just won't die, damn it. It's not gonna happen.

Chapter 2: Unwell

"Kid… I don't know you… I told you, I hardly know who I am. Stop following me."  
"Unh-uh! Not gonna happen, Spike-person, I'm not gonna leave you alone! Not till you tell me why you're here on Earth if you died on Mars!"  
Spike whirled around. "I don't know, damn it! And I guess I didn't die, huh? That, or heaven is even more damn idiotic then I thought. Just STOP!"  
Ed pouted. "If Ed cannot follow Spike, Lunkhead must follow Ed, I say! We shall go on grand adventures! Bang! Pow! How do you say useless in Texan, Faye-Faye asks? LUNKHEAD! Heeheehee! Cowgirl Ed is on the job, mmhmm!"

"What ARE you talking about, Ed?" Spike was honestly intrigued. How did he ever meet this kid? She was obviously nuts. "A better question… why am I still here?" He turned to walk away, and Ed promptly jumped in front of him, walking backward in perfect rhythm.  
"Lunkhead Spike must follow Cowgirl Ed!"

"No."  
"Yes! And we shall have fantaaaassstical adventures and stuff, and get all those nasty little outlaws! It's a roundup! Bounty hunting is the job for you, poofy-head man!"

"Worth a shot. What the hell ARE you, kid? And what's with all the bouncing around?"

"Ed… is Ed. And Ed acts like Ed because Ed is Ed. What is Spike's excuse for getting all stabbed and stuff, huh? At least I have a good one."  
Spike lit up a cigarette. "Touché, kid. All right, I'll give it a shot. One thing though."  
"Yesss?"

"I got a feeling I'm dead for a reason. So don't tell on me, kid."  
"Oui, oui, pinky swear for the Spike-person not to tell on his lunkhead self, I agree!" She stuck her pinky out.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Ed is very serious."  
"I really should start listening to that little voice inside. The one that goes 'Dumbass!' every now and then."

"Heeheehee, yes, Spike-Spike should. But he doesn't, and that's why he's a lunkhead!"

"Whatever you say, Ed." Spike gave a small shrug and stuck out his pinky. "Ah, what the hell. It's a deal."

Jet sat, watching TV. The phone began to ring, and he answered, his old friend Bob showing up.  
"Things aren't so good any more, Jet. You remember what I said?"  
"Yeah. The police are run by the syndicate."  
"Well, guess what happened to the syndicate with Spike and Vicious dead? Yeah. We've been keeping stuff quiet, but the ISSP is falling apart. There's no law in the universe any more, Jet. I thought you ought to know. You're the Black Dog, you know. You're a legend. Even the people who don't like you have to respect you."

Jet sighed. "I'm not a cop any more, Bob, and I never will be. The universe isn't my problem. Besides, I have my own problems."

"Like what."  
"A dead partner, for one. Look. I'd love to help… but there's nothing left for me to do. If I ever decide to save the world, I'll get in touch." Jet hung up. "Man, Spike dies and suddenly everyone expects me to pick up the slack. Go figure… That's life."

"So, then, Ed… who's our first target?"  
"Already right back on track Mr. Spike-Spike! His name is Iramitsu, and he's a pretty nasty guy, that's what they say! Connected with one Red Dragon syndicate!"  
"Hmm, sounds familiar. Still, money is money, right? Gimme a location, Ed."  
Ed nodded, and immediately flipped over, her toes flying across the keyboard. "Last sighted in a city about three miles straight thataway, mmhmm mmhmm!" One foot shot off from the keyboard, pointing in a northwestern direction. "Just head down there and there he will be!"  
Spike shook his head. "Will you ever cease to amaze, Ed?"  
"Yep!"

"Let's go, then, before that happens."

"Roger that, Spike-person!"

Spike sat outside the bar in this desert town, huge sombrero making his already ridiculous hairstyle even more odd-looking as he napped. He smirked from behind dark sunglasses, and then looked his way toward the man, quickly IDing him and walking up. "Hey. How's it going?"  
Iramitsu waved him off. "Fine, fine."  
"I think the word they usually scream at this point is freeze. Would you mind?"

"Bounty hunter?"  
"Yes indeed." He tossed the sombrero into the air, and Iramitsu spun, swinging on Spike, who dropped down and slammed his fist into Iramitsu's gut. "Now, that wasn't very nice."  
The bounty looked up. "No… Spiegel… you're dead."  
"That's the local news' standpoint on it, anyway, isn't it? But here I am, in the flesh, huh. Imagine that. How do you know me, anyway?"  
"If you don't remember, I'm not going to tell you."  
Spike shrugged. "Fine. If that's the way you want it…"  
"You're a man with no past and now, no future, Spike… When you remember who you are, remember this, too… Vicious and Julia are dead."  
"I'll keep it in mind. I'm sure the cops would be interested too."  
"I doubt it. Besides, they're not going to hear it!" Iramitsu suddenly dropped under Spike's kick, then slammed a fist into Spike's gut that sent him stumbling back a few paces before he regained his composure. "After all… you'd have to turn me in for that to happen."  
Spike grinned. "Okay then." He rushed forward, punching and grinning as Iramitsu leaned under the punch. "Ed! Sic 'im!"  
A flash of red hair, and Ed was pulling the man to the ground, quickly handcuffing him. "Done, Spike-Spike! One bounty head, all nice and tied up for you! I told ya you'd be a good bounty hunter!"  
"I guess you were right… And all in all, it was pretty fun."

"Mmhmm!"

"But how did he know me, anyway?"  
"Loooooong story."  
"Ed…"  
"Ed's not telling youuuuu!"  
"Ed… TELL ME NOW!"  
"No! Silly lunkhead Spike will never never EVER find out! I'm not gonna talk! You can't make me!"  
"You wanna bet?" Spike arched an eyebrow.  
"Oooh… do ya feel lucky, punk? C'mon, do ya!" Ed jumped from Iramitsu, pouncing on Spike's head and bounding away.  
"Ed, as soon as I get this guy to the station, you are DEAD! YOU HEAR ME? DEAD! Stupid brat…" Spike looked down to Iramitsu, and noticed a slight bit of blood on otherwise empty handcuffs. "DAMNIT!" He slammed his fist into the wall and ran off after Ed.

"Gone, lost, bye-bye mister Iramitsu! Lunkhead Spike lost the bountyhead!"  
Spike growled. "Kid, if you hadn't distracted me, he wouldn't have gotten away!"

Ed nodded. "That happens a lot! We always get our man and we never get our bounty!"  
"What kind of heroes are we supposed to be, kid?"  
"Ed thinks we're the not-very-good-at-their-job kind! But at least it's always fun, right, Spike-Spike?"

Spike shook his head, uselessly. "Yeah… fun's the word for it, alright." _Vicious… Julia… what was that guy talking about? I guess we'll just have to track him down. And then…_ "…Bang." Spike made an almost childish shooting gesture with his hand.

"What's that, Spike-Spike?"  
"Ed, see if you can catch Iramitsu's trail. I've got a couple questions for him."  
"You got it!"

So long, Space Cowboy… 

Spike: On the Next Session of Requiem, we track down Iramitsu! But things are starting to get complicated, as the Red Dragon Syndicate takes a hostage!

Faye: And when I find myself kidnapped, one can only imagine the wacky hijinks that ensue! We wish! This episode's all business and a little bit of comedy as Spike makes his march on the Red Dragon Syndicate like some sort of…

Session 3: One Man Army


	3. Session 3: One Man Army

A/N: Yes, once again, Xavior Nightshadow returns to the world of Requiem for a Dragon. JADAS is next.

Session 3: One Man Army

Spike, in his career as a bounty hunter, had found, and lost, 5 bounties in the last three days. He had heard of bad luck before, but this was like… cursed. And he couldn't even blame it on the kid. Half the time he had only managed to get the guy at all because of her, and the other half, she was off looking for… candy or something. Kids. Who knew? Trying to see into one of their heads was impossible. The kid, however, had apparently decided it was worth a look into his head, as she was now, much to his consternation, sitting on his head. Bent over, looking into his eyes through a pair of goggles.

"You're not going to see anything but my eyes, kid."

"That's because there's nothing past Spike-spike's eyes but empty skull, 'cause he's a lunkhead! But I don't wanna see Spike-person's brains and stuffs. Spike-Spike's eyes are weird."

"Hnn?" Looking into the reflection in the goggles, he could tell she was right. One of his eyes was a definite different shade than the other… almost red. "Oh, I guess you're right. But do ya have to sit on my head?"

"No." Spike sighed in relief. "But I liiike it!" A groan, and hands swept up for the little girl caught in Spike's hair.

"C'mere, ya little pain! I'm getting you out of there one way or another!"

"You'll never take me alive, Spike-Spike!"

What would've been a struggle of epic proportions was cut off by a sudden series of beeps from Ed's computer. Ed, it seemed, had a message.

"He's dead, you know. He can't come here."

Iramitsu shook his head. "I don't think so. Saw him myself. And he's going to come here… or you're going to end up suffering the consequences." Iramitsu looked at the captive. He had found her in a bar on Callisto, of all places. "Besides… I owe him one."

Faye just sighed. "Some men… so deluded…" Quietly, she went to work, trying to find some way to grind the ropes down.

Spike had retreated into the back room of the duo's small apartment on Earth. When you were trying to be "dead", you didn't want to be seen on every video message made or received by a 14 year old girl. Ed, on the other hand, had just opened the message. "Talkie-talkie, talkie-walkie, whatcha got to say to Ed?" The message popped up, and Faye could clearly be seen, bound up, with Iramitsu in the background. "Oooh, Faye-Faye's done it again!" Onscreen, Iramitsu started talking.

"You're lucky it took me this long to find you. If I'd've done it sooner, I could've eliminated you on my way off the planet. Unfortunately, I had to settle for plotting my revenge from afar… But I picked up a nice little token on Callisto. If you want her back, come and take her."

"Ooooh, Spike-Spike must come to the rescue of the damsel in distress! Innnteresting. Does he accept the challenge? I say he does! He shall march boldly to rescue his true love!"  
Spike poked his head out of the back room, and took a quick glance at the screen. "Who the hell is that?"

"A damsel in distress, a former friend, ton copain, mon ami! It seems mean old mister Iramitsu here is threatening you with her!"

"Oh, yeah, kidnap someone to get back at an amnesiac. Makes a lot of sense." Spike furrowed his brow, obviously deep in thought. "We're going shopping. I'm gonna buy a nice, loose-fitting set of clothes… and a ship."

Ed grinned. "And a souvenir for Ed!"

"Wha? Oh, okay, fine. We'll grab you a souvenir… damn kids…" Spike walked out, Ed tagging along, and made his way along the shops. He stopped once to buy, as he had earlier stated, a comfortable, loose-fitting pair of pants, along with matching shirt. The shirt was silver and black, with the word DUALITY printed across the back, black on the silver half of the shirt and silver on the black half. The pants were black, with a red dragon tracing up one leg. "Hmmn. Not bad." He bought it with what meager funds he had available, also grabbing a black bandana, which he quickly tied so that it concealed the lower half of his face before untying it and pocketing it. "Now, let's go get a ship."

"But Spike-person, we're out of money!"

"I said GET a ship. I never said we'd buy it."

"Ooooooh… Spike-Spike is bad to the bone!"

"You know it, kid." Spike laughed, making his way down (with occasional direction from Ed, despite his protests that he knew exactly where he was going), to a local repair shop. "Alright, here we go. You head home and get ready for me. They don't tie these things down, because they're either spare parts or gonna be. Easy grab." As Ed nodded and began to move back toward home, quickly going into a near-four-legged run, Spike moved quickly through the group of workers, his outfit just casual enough to spare him notice. As he reached the back, he saw a guard sitting in front of the back room, where a large "employees only" sign hung. "They never make these things easy… I guess I'm gonna have to pay for it." He dug into his pocket, and pulled out a small coin. "My last woolong. Well, at least it's for a good cause." He flicked it out past the guard, down a small hallway, causing, in some bizarre streak of good luck, a metallic crash.

"Hmmn? Sounds like someone's getting into the parts… better go check it out." The guard stood up, moving toward the woolong… and another began to move in, seeing the spot was vacant. Before he would attract too much attention, Spike moved in, slipping past the door, though not without notice of the new guard, who doubled his pace.

"Time for a rush buy…" As soon as Spike looked, though, there was only one choice. A cool, red ship, a little dinged up, but definitely workable. He jumped in and began to try to start the ship, which refused to kick in. Finally, he growled, and brought his foot back as far as the seat would allow, slamming it into the dash. The engine roared to life, and he grinned. "We're in business, baby." He brought the ship up a little bit in the large back room, and spun it around. The only doors were steel, huge, and closed. "We'll just have to fix that." Working the controls, Spike quickly located what he wanted… a laser that quickly cut a hole through the wall. It wasn't quite big enough by the time the security burst in, though. "This is gonna get heavy!" He jammed on the throttle, the whole ship shooting forward into the rip in the door, shredding it further, metal flying past the ship as it pushed through. "And we're outta here!" A quick half-flip had Spike flying back toward home, upside-down until he did a quick 180 turn. "And there we go! Now, let's roll on out of here before they decide to get into one of the other fine craft in there…" The throttle still pushed to the max, Spike weaved through the buildings before slowing down a bit as he reached the apartment he and Ed shared. The girl waved toward him, then seemed to giggle as he landed.

"It figures Spike-Spike would take that one…"

"I like its style. And I think she likes me."

Ed just shook her head. "Lunkhead Spike's probably in trouuuble! You'd better get going, Spike-Spike!"

"Alright… just toss me my hat."

"Here ya go!" Ed tossed him the oversized hat, which he quickly titled down to partially cover his eyes.

"See ya, kid." Spike took off into the air, then shot out into space, tying the bandana around the lower half of his face.

Ed stared up at the rapidly disappearing dot that was her friend. "Spike-Spike forgot to buy me a souvenir… Lunkhead's gonna get it when he lands!"

It was only when Spike was already out in space that it occurred to him. He quickly flicked on the communications system, and flicked over to Ed's frequency. "Hey, Ed."

"Spike forgot to ask for directions! Silly Spike. Hereeee ya go!"

Spike could only shake his head. "Too damn smart." As he cut off the connection, the coordinates popped up, and he set the ship to autopilot. "The only thing worse than a kid… is a woman with attitude."

One such woman was slowly working away at her ropes. Unfortunately, they were tied tight, so the only way she could wear them down at all was slight twists of her body that barely moved them. This… was gonna take a while.

As Spike approached, his ship pulled down, onto the surface of Mars. The building he had landed at appeared to be a defunct bar… "Sullivan's? He's running a kidnapping attempt… out of a place called Sullivan's. That's almost sad. Actually, that's really sad." Spike sighed. "Better go save the day…" And of course, he had barely stepped into the place when a shot rang by his ear. A couple of guys moved toward him, and he instinctively dropped, tossing a kick up into the gut of one of the men, pulling his leg aside in a way that dragged across the man and caused him to stumble into another, who dropped his gun. Spike caught it and immediately dove over the bar, his foot nearly catching on a stool on his way over. The dusty glasses overhead shattered as a couple more goons moved in, and he fired toward them, the first couple shots going wild before he found the rhythm of the gun and took down the following wave. The gun was spent at this point and he tossed it aside, having no spare clips to work with. Before he could move to pick another one up, though, another man stepped into the room, this time from behind the bar, and Spike was aware of him just in time to feel a foot hit his back. He gasped a bit, then felt the cold press of metal against the back of his head.

"You're damn good. Makes sense."

"Are you going to pull the trigger, or is this going to turn into a pleasant chat?"

"Oh, trust me, I'm going to – "

The time the man had taken for his answer was just enough for Spike to hook his foot behind the man's leg, pulling him back, the man firing just in time to make a neat rip through Spike's favorite hat. Spike rewarded him with an extra little stomp on the man's gun hand, grinding the metal into the goon's flesh. Then he stepped over him and into the back room.

Iramitsu, as expected, was not happy to see him. "You just don't know how to die properly, do you, Spiegel?"

Faye looked at her would-be rescuer. On one hand, the goofy disguise thing was just his style. On the other, this guy looked almost… too small to be Spike. It could just be the big clothes, but it was hard to tell. Plus she couldn't see his eyes. If there was one noticeable thing about Spike, it was definitely his eyes. On the other other hand… This guy had just waded through a bunch of syndicate goons and a good amount of gunfire just to rescue her.

Yeah… there was no way in hell it was Spike.

Spike, on the other hand, was more concerned with the slightly metallic taste in his mouth. It wasn't blood. At least, he didn't think it was blood. He hadn't been hit hard enough to be tasting blood… Especially since not a single one of Iramitsu's blows so far had been directed at his face. But the guy could fight... Since when? Hadn't he beat the crap out of the guy just a few days ago? A quick duck and a flurry of kicks were responded to by a block and a single well-placed punch that brushed against the cheek of the quick-moving Spike. Now it was definitely blood. He sighed. His marks just didn't know when to quit. On the next swing from Iramitsu, he made a grab for the man's arm and pulled, moving his target forward as he raised his foot, Iramitsu's face making brutal contact with the tip of Spike's foot. He brought down his leg, twisted the arm in his grasp, and brought a stunned Iramitsu to the ground. "You said I could take her, right?"

Iramitsu was in no condition to answer.

A few minutes later, Faye was out of her ropes. Her first act as a free woman was to snatch for her rescuer's hat, but he twisted, so she just managed to bring it down over his eyes. He backed away, and before he righted the hat, a small tuft of green hair could be seen.

"Spike?"

"Your mysterious rescuer. Now, we need to talk reward."  
"Reward?"

"I saved the princess, didn't I? Where's my half the kingdom?"

"I've got a couple cough drops…"

Spike grinned from behind his bandana. "I'll take 'em."

"What happened to half the kingdom? You get half, which means one. Cherry or Honey Lemon?"

"Cherry. Honey Lemon tastes like shit."

"You suck. Fine." She handed off the cough drop, only to watch it disappear up a sleeve in a quick sleight of hand. "Remind me not to play cards with you."

"Not even a quick hand? That's a shame." He began to walk off.

"Hey, wait up!"

"What?"

"How am I getting out of here?"

"There's a phone around here somewhere. Call a cab. My ship's not a two-seater." Spike was gone a few moments later.

"What an asshole… If I find out that really was Spike, I'm so gonna kick his ass." Faye stormed out of the back room, taking the opportunity to grind her heel into a very sensitive region of Iramitsu's body.

Pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name…

Faye: If I ever find that little bastard again, I'm gonna kill him!

Spike: I scored a cough drop… sweet.

Ed: Spike forgot to get Ed a souvenir…

Next Session:

Been Caught Stealing


	4. Session 4: Been Caught Stealing

A/N: Kind of a short chapter this time around - the next one will be longer, I promise! I just wanted to take it easy on this one.

Chapter 4 - Been Caught Stealing

Sitting in the middle of space, drifting at something over a thousand miles an hour, and sucking on a cherry cough drop, Spike had to admit one thing.

Being on the other side of the bounty-hunting coin sucked. Oh, sure, now he had a ship, but he couldn't dock anywhere because his ship was basically marked. This was highly inconvenient. This was also why, along with his grand total of three woolongs, he was drifting through space like a hopeless idiot. Gas was expensive. And the kid had given him away! To her credit, she had used a fake name - Emmanuel-something, which was rather amusing because he didn't look Hispanic in the slightest, but they apparently bought it, along with the crappy picture he had seen them conversing over when the guys at the local fueling station finally realized exactly WHICH retrofitted asteroid racer that was sitting in their parking lot.

Looking at the reference picture they were working with, he could almost understand "Emmanuel". Not that that made this suck any less. And of course, the kid wouldn't arrange for shit, because he had forgotten the damn souvenir. Okay, that wasn't exactly fair. He had a souvenir. But all the dust and gunfire and the blood and crap had given him a really nasty scratchy throat, and, well... his Cherry-flavored comrade had paid the ultimate price. So now he was drifting through space at over a thousand miles per hour, a thought that seemed vaguely familiar, as though he had just made this observation a few lines ago in his own little internal monologue. Which, he reasoned, was entirely possible. He had bothered to look into this amnesia thing and it said that there was also this thing where you had trouble forming new memories, which basically just meant you couldn't remember whatever it was you did five minutes ago. It could happen. In what he was sure was a fairly NEW observation, though, he had spotted a somewhat larger ship almost directly in his path. It was at least large enough that it had a hangar which in and of itself was large enough to hold the ship he was currently drifting through space in. Kind of crappy looking too. The thing had to be at least... what, like twenty years old? It was all sorts of banged up and probably hadn't had that new car smell in quite a while. Of course, none of this concerned him so much as the fact that the (presumably curious, or at least Spike hoped that was all it was, because he really didn't feel like being captured, though he supposed he had really run out of choice in the matter when his fuel tank had similarly run out) owner of this particular ship had apparently decided that it was a perfectly reasonable idea to open up the hangar, apparently ignoring that little law of inertia which meant he would probably barrel right on through. Then he noticed the claw on this thing, and he figured that this wasn't the first time this thing had reeled in a ship that was hurtling through the void.

Jet Black, on the other hand, was worried about exactly the same scenario - for an entirely different reason. This was the Swordfish. He had specifically sold the Swordfish. No reason not to, he figured, and honestly, he had a dead partner, he didn't feel like dealing with holding onto the guy's ship. Best just to move on. Because THAT one had applied so many times in the life of the Black Dog. Yeah, he was basically known for just letting go. Wait, no, he sarcastically reminded himself, try the exact opposite of that, hadn't he built his career and reputation on being a stubborn bastard? Yeah, that's just about right. As the Bebop's claw arm reeled in its prize, he couldn't help but make his way down to the hangar - but the Swordfish was already popped open, and the cockpit was empty. Incredulous, and feeling for all the world a feeling he could only imagine might be shared by Ebenezer Scrooge in that old Earth story when confronted with his own, equally dead partner, he ventured a quiet, "Spike?"

Hmm. No clanking chains. That was a plus. Jet Black, 1. Ebenezer Scrooge? 0.

Spike's reaction as he lay hiding in one of the deep shadows cast in the Bebop's hanger, was, understandably, a bit of harsh internal language. Not to mention the question of how the hell he had managed to run into yet ANOTHER person from his murky past in what could be no more than a week. He thought. Time got kind of weird when you didn't have a solid past to work off of. It was one of those things. Hopefully this guy would just go away.

Then Jet remembered that the Swordfish had apparently been stolen, drew his gun, and Spike realized that no, Jet probably wouldn't go away. Which led to another bout of harsh internal language and nearly to a bit of external language that almost certainly would've gotten himself caught. Feeling there was no other choice, he quickly rushed out, attempted to sneak by this guy, and when it became obvious that this particular strategy wasn't going to work, swung his leg up in a kick. Which simply slammed into something made out of steel, which apparently was this guy's arm. This time Spike let out a harsh "fuck" before pulling his leg down. By the time Jet turned and got a good look at him, he had his ridiculous hat pulled down over his ridiculous eyes. Still, Jet spied a familiar tuft of moss-green hair (and really, who else had hair that color) poking out from a hole in the hat, and once again, this time incredulous...

"Spike?" To which the offender replied by busting out some sort of slide past him and kicking into his spine. Which he REALLY did not enjoy. The second part of this response was a further pressing of the foot into his spinal column (and now he was getting a little pissed and almost convinced that this was Spike - who else could nearly break his foot, then somehow gain the upper hand?) and Spike's best imitation of a Spanish accent. Which kind of sounded British, too. "Spike? No clue who you're talkin' about. Emmanuel, mate." Okay, not British. Australian. Jet wasn't a damn linguist. "Now, I was actually startin' to enjoy my peaceful little drift through space, but that ain't happenin', so, maybe I can get some fuel and we can never see each other again, like never in a million years, cool?" Okay, it was totally Spike. Only he would mix up his accents this bad. Jet just groaned. "So... if you are alive... What the hell are you doing back here?" "If I only knew, mate," Spike-also-known-as-Emmanuel answered. He was sticking to his guns, using that same crappy quasi-Spanish/British/Australian/Hippie accent. "Wouldn't mind knowing who the hell you are, either, or where the hell you keep the fuel, eh?" Okay, now he was Canadian. What the hell?  
"Drop the fuckin' accent, mate," Jet intoned, now both confused as to what exactly was wrong with Spikemanuel, and a little pissed about the very uncomfortable position he was in and what he imagined was a very comfortable loafer of some sort that was still not very comfortable when lodged in his spine. "And if you must know, the fuel is... Probably around here somewhere. Over there, actually." Jet twitched his neck a little, (which Spike... Emmanuel... WHATEVER didn't seem too happy about, but had to grudgingly accept as the easiest way for Jet to motion), gesturing towards a little corner, where the Hammerhead sat, a pair of gas cans clearly visible next to him.

_Son of a bitch,_ Spike said (mostly to himself), _how did I not notice that?_ But that wasn't the main concern. And with a quick "Sorry, bub," he brought the foot up from this guy's spine into the back of his skull. As Jet passed out, the last thought that ran through his head was simple:  
_ Score one for Ebenezer Scrooge. His partner didn't know kung fu._

* * *

Spike was enacting some serious get the fuck out manuvers in this one. He had left the ship that had captured him long behind, and was seriously hoping to evade pursuit... In the meantime, (and with 50 woolongs he had fished out of the other guy's wallet while he was knocked out, something that made Spike glad he didn't have much pride to worry about), he was heading the hell home. He brought up the radio, made a call, and was confronted with a full head of bright, unkempt red hair... pointing the other direction. "Jeez, kid... how many loose ends did I leave."  
"Ed is not talking to you."  
"Obviously enough to strangle my ass."  
"Ed does not see a souvenir..."  
"I'm starting to wonder if maybe my miraculous survival isn't that wonderful."  
"Who is this calling Ed, and what gifts do they present to her mighty Edward-ness, royal majesty of Ed-tania?"  
"Ed-tania? Okay, you're insane. I knew this, of course, but I thank you for reaffirming the status quo and maintaining some semblance of normalacy," Spike replied.  
"Ed heard someone say sarcasm was the refuge of the weak... or somethin'..." Ed mused, not realizing she'd just spoken to Spike souvenir-less. Luckily for her, Spike didn't either.  
"I prefer to think of it as the salvation of the supremely bored, kid. Signin' off." Spike shut off the radio. That kid just wouldn't talk to him without some stupid souvenir.  
Wait... He had a solution! 

Forget the whole damn thing and go get a beer. Score one for Spike Spiegel, master detective.

* * *

Spike sat in what was probably the only bar on Callisto, downing a beer and staring in sad contemplation at the ring that drink left on the bartop - which the barkeep noticed, too, and before long Spike was brought out of his reverie by a harsh clunk of glass as his drink was pulled up and dropped harshly on one of those little cardboard coasters... It was only then he saw the name on the coaster. "Sullivan's?!" he exclaimed in shock. "You ever run a place up on Mars?" 

The bartender looked at him. "I did. What of it?"

Spike looked up. "Nice place. I went there once. Got shot at a few times." Okay, that was the wrong thing to say. "Could I keep the coaster?"

"100 woolongs."

"The beer was forty-five!" Spike stood up, pulling the coaster out of its place indignantly - and watching the cup spin through the air ominously. He should move. He really should. This couldn't end well, no way. But he watched... and watched... and watched... and cursed that dramatic tendency that drew out mere moments into agonizing hours. And then it landed, and everything rushed back to reality, and Spike was at the doorstep of the bar in a moment as a sharp crash brought things roaring to life - and the bartender moving after him with an indignance that suggested he might find himself once again under gunfire at the fine establishment of Sullivan's.

He decided to be gone before that became an issue. He was good at that, actually. And before long...

_In space again... But, I've got fuel. And eight woolongs... And a beer coaster._ He grinned, calling up the radio once more.  
"Who requests an audience with Edwardia Wongolia Hauston Pepelu Tvirusky the Fourth?"  
Damn that kid. "You're adding syllables again, Ed," he commented dryly, holding up the coaster. "Got you a present."  
Ed practically squealed in delight. "Awesome work, lunkhead! Super-special-coolio-awesome, even! Ed will get right to work."  
_ Gee,_ Spike thought, a little embarrassed. _I would've been fine with, "Spike, you're a really swell guy."_

What was the moral of this story, exactly?

See you later, Space Cowboy

Spike: Apparently, I'm just gonna keep barreling through life - though at this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if I end up dead AGAIN. And things just seem to keep getting weirder and weirder for me... At least I found a good bounty for my next exciting adventure. Yay. See you there...

Next Session: Dracula From Houston


End file.
